


Guns and Roses

by queen_bee09



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drama, Enemies to Lovers, Lotsa hot dudes in suits with guns, M/M, Mafia AU, Romance, Slow Burn, Violence, haikyuu mafia au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-19 06:00:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29994951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_bee09/pseuds/queen_bee09
Summary: Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime were born on opposite sides of an everlasting war, forced to take up their roles as the heirs to the two most powerful mafia families in Japan.Neither of them expected to find an ally on the other side.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Shimizu Kiyoko/Yachi Hitoka, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Kudos: 12





	1. Check(mate?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo everyone!! Thank you for checking out my fic, I hope you enjoy it ! <3

The absolute last thing Tooru Oikawa needed today was an ambush.

And yet, here he was, being shoved to the ground as gunshots rang out in the distance. 

He groans, rolling to the side and glaring up at Kuroo Tetsurou, who was simultaneously returning fire to their assailants and talking to someone on the phone—most likely Kozume Kenma, his best friend and the only outsider he talked to. “—just a tiny ambush. I’m handling it.”

“Roo-chan, you do realize this is a one-thousand dollar suit, correct?”

Kuroo pauses his conversation to roll his eyes at Tooru. “Fuck the suit. Would you rather die?”

“I’d  rather  go out in style,” he smirks as he stands, pulling out his own firearm and clicking the safety off. “Where am I aiming?”

Kuroo doesn’t miss a beat. “Sniper, third window up in the building to your left. I’ll take out the ground troops.”

Tooru grins, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he ducks behind a dumpster, narrowly avoiding being shot. He crinkles his nose against the putrid smell. “Ew, trash. Just like you, Roo-chan.”

“Shut the fuck up and shoot!” Kuroo growls as he runs past Tooru, firing a few shots before taking off once more, his suit jacket flying behind him.

“So  cranky ,” Tooru mutters as he peeks over the edge of the dumpster. The sniper’s out of sight but Tooru can tell they’re there—the window’s wide open. 

_Amateur_ . 

He’s close enough that he can make it inside the building without any fatal injuries, and they likely didn’t place any guards inside judging by how little their numbers were. Still, he hesitates—though it’s only a moment before he’s on his feet and he’s running, taking out two men along the way. He enters the building, surprisingly, unscathed.

Tooru’s never enjoyed using a gun. They’re loud and bulky and much less attractive than knives when paired with a suit, but he’s forced to use them all the same. Trained by the age of nine to be an expert marksman—a bulls-eye was the only thing acceptable when it came to his father.

Tooru Oikawa had not grown up playing with toy cars or practicing baseball—he’d been in the mafia since he was conceived, and his father trained him early and trained him well.

He was, quite literally, born to do this. 

Tooru laughed under his breath as he made his way up a staircase, keeping his steps quiet and resourceful— _there is no greater power than the surprise attack_ , his father’s voice lectured in his head.

He wasn’t entirely sure how the turf war started—only that it was bloody and brutal, leaving both sides devastated and pissed, which led to a long-lasting hatred for the other side. 

There were two main families—the Oikawas and the Iwaizumis—who had split the city in half, fighting for power and revenge, making allies and enemies along the way. They called it ‘profit’ and the police turned a blind eye. They called it ‘the right thing to do’ and everyone believed them. Families paid them for protection against the other side, and some even joined their ranks. Eventually, it grew into... _this_ . Expecting an attack every time you left the base—expecting  _death_ every time you left. 

It was bullshit, every bit of it. 

But there was no way out once you were in—especially for him—no matter how much you wanted it.

Tooru narrows his eyes as he reaches a door with a large, yellow  _Floor 3_ on it.

_Gun_?  Check.

_Throwing knives_?  Check.

_Regular knives_?  Check.

_Stunningly attractive face_?  Check.

His lips twitch to the side as he opens the door slowly, gun cocked and ready.

_What?_

_It’s empty._

There’s no sign of a sniper—not even a stray bullet left behind to prove someone was there in the first place. The room seems to be under construction, half-walls and random planks of wood standing in his way. 

“What the hell,” he grumbles aloud, clicking on the safety so he doesn’t accidentally shoot himself.  _Wouldn’t be the first time._

He presses a finger to his earpiece. “There’s no one here.”

Kuroo’s response comes only seconds later. “ _What? Are you sure?_ ”

“Checked and double checked, Roo-chan,” he quips as he moves across the room, glancing around for a place someone could be hiding and finding nothing. “It’s a wasteland.”

“ _Then get out of there. I’ve taken out everyone down here, but who knows how many sniper’s they’ve got tucked away_ .”

“I’ll be down in a minute.”

“ _You better not get your ass shot while you’re taking your sweet time, Tooru_. ”

He laughs. “Relax. I know what I’m doing.”

“ _I sure as fuck hope so. Your dad would kill me if I brought you home all beaten up again_ .”

“Impossible! I’m a Queen on an empty chess board—I’m untouchable.”

“ _You keep telling yourself that. Meet me back at the car in ten minutes or I’m leaving without you_. ”

“You wouldn’t. I’m too pretty to be left behind.”

“ _I’m too pretty to be dealing with your shit, and yet here I am_. ”

“You’re rude when you’re tired.”

“ _Damn right. Ten minutes, Tooru_ .”

“Roger,” he affirms, and then he’s left alone in the silence once more. He isn’t quite sure why he stayed—only that something about this room felt off. The back of his neck prickled, like he was being watched. 

But... _it’s empty. Right?_

Newly wary, he reached for a few of his throwing knives, comforted by the familiar weight and bite of the blade occasionally scraping against his skin. He’d always been more comfortable with knives—sharp, quick, and relatively quiet if you knew how to use them. Useful in both hand-to-hand and long-distance combat. His father taught him everything he knew—except how to use a knife. That was Tooru’s secret skill and he intended to keep it that way.

Something glittered on the ground a few feet away from where he stood, small and tucked into a corner. Curiously, Tooru ventures closer, his fingers tightening around the grip of his gun. 

He bent down, picking up the tiny object and squinting at it through glasses-less eyes.  _Fuck me for forgetting my contacts._

_It’s...a bullet?_

He realizes what’s going to happen even before it does, fumbling around for his knife and failing to do so in time.

There’s a soft click that sounds from behind him and  _fuck_ , he knows that sound all too well—the sound of the safety being released on a gun. 

His heart pounds as he tries his very best not to move a muscle, glaring at a point in the concrete wall in front of him. 

A deep, angry voice growls a single word into Tooru’s ear, hot breath tickling his neck. 

“ _Checkmate_ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LETS GOOK MAFIA AU!!
> 
> There was a noticeable lack of these when I was searching for something to read, and I was like “why aren’t there more? This is a great idea” and then I was like *in Thanos voice* “Fine. I’ll do it myself.”
> 
> So here we are


	2. The mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi Hajime stands in front of him, decked out in black fighting gear, his lips curled into a snarl as he says, “Here’s how this is going to go. I’m going to ask you a question, and you’re going to tell me the truth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok I’m so sorry that last chapter wasn’t longer—I’ll 100% work on that. For now, I’m just jotting down the ideas in my head and it’s hard to make it lengthy lol
> 
> I promise I’ll work on that!
> 
> ♪~ ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ

Tooru recognizes that voice. He smirks, turning slowly in a circle to face his attacker. Most of his face is covered—he wears a mask and there’s a hat obscuring his hair—so it’s unlikely that the man recognizes him.

_Not that he would_ ,  Tooru thinks sourly.  _I don’t get invited to those kinds of meetings a lot_.

Iwaizumi Hajime stands in front of him, decked out in black fighting gear, his lips curled into a snarl as he says, “Here’s how this is going to go. I’m going to ask you a question, and you’re going to tell me the truth.”

”And what if I lie?”

The gun presses harder into his forehead, the cold metal biting at his skin. “Then I’m going to put a bullet between those pretty eyes.”

Tooru gasps theatrically. “You think my eyes are pretty?”

”Shut up,” Hajime hisses. “Why are you here?”

“The view.” His arms start to ache from holding them in the air for so long, so he drops them and places his hands on his hips.

”Answer the question.”

Tooru rolls his eyes. “No, really, I was sent up here to take you out.”

Hajime’s jaw tightens. “You did a shitty job of it.”

”Rude.”

Ignoring him, Hajime asks, “Why are you here?”

It’s a difficult question. “It was an accident!”

”Bullshit.”

“I was out for a walk and took a wrong turn through the park at the border.” It’s not a lie—Kuroo and him had gotten a bit lost when crossing over.

“You walked right into a fucking war zone, idiot.”

_Play dumb_ . “What?”

”Don’t fuck with me.” Hajime isn’t fooled—he’s always been that way, able to see through any lie.  One of his more annoying traits.

”Okay,” he gives in, reminding himself that there’s a gun to his head and he has to be back for a dinner party by six o’clock. “We were in a major hotspot for crime. So what? It was an accident. We weren’t trying to...hurt anyone, or steal anything.”

”You killed ten of my men.”

Tooru glanced to the side, guilty. “Well, yes, but you started it!”

The gun presses harder into his head. “Who are you.”

...what?

The sudden realization that Hajime doesn’t recognize him makes him want to laugh.  _Oh, Iwa-chan...you’re in for a treat._ “I’m no one.”

“ _Who are you_ .”

He hesitates. “Tooru.”  _Don’t give him your last name_ ,  his common sense whispers. 

“Alright,  _Tooru_ , ” Hajime sneers, “Why did you risk your life to come to the edge of the border?”

Tooru sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. _Kuroo should be leaving right about now—I’ll have to walk back_. “To get some alcohol.”

Hajime steps closer, getting up in his face with an expression full of  _I’m-not-buying-it_ . “Try again.”

”I’m not lying!” Tooru protests. 

Hajime stares at him like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You went to a liquor store in the middle of a  _war zone_ ? How much of an idiot do you have to be to think that you would be fine?”

”Hey, it was working until you decided to shoot at us!”

”Because that’s my  _job_ , dumbass!” Hajime growls, taking the gun off his forehead and dropping his arm to his side. 

Tooru relaxes a bit. ”This suit is incredibly expensive, you know. If you’re going to kill me, at least try not to get blood on it.”

”Why the fuck did you wear an expensive suit into a place where you’re very likely going to get shot at?”

_Iwa-chan can be so daft sometimes_ _._ “For the ladies, obviously.”

”Of course,” Hajime mutters as he rolls his eyes. “Listen. I don’t want to kill you.”

”I knew you loved me,” Tooru purrs.

“ _I don’t want to kill you_ ,” he continues, “But I will.”

”You won’t.”

”I will, because you haven’t given me a reason not to.”

Tooru isn’t sure what to say to this—he’s told Hajime his reasons, he’s given him his excuses.  _What reason could I give him that would work?_

Hajime’s merciless. They learned that the hard way, over years and years of shoot-outs in alleyways and so-called “peace meetings” that ended up being the opposite of peaceful. He’s known for his ability to shoot and walk away.

So why is he hesitating now?

_There’s something he wants from me._

_Information?_ No, he’s given him information already. Tooru would rather die than give up more than he already has, anyway.

_So, then, what could he possibly want?_

”A reason?” Tooru echoes, trying to buy time. “What reason could you need other than my stunning face?”

The gun was pointed at his forehead once again. “Wrong answer.”

”Wait!” Tooru raised his hands in surrender. “What do you get out of shooting me?”

” What ?”

”You gain nothing from killing me,” Tooru said, “All you’ll get from shooting me is a corpse and a ruined suit.”

They stand like that for a moment—gun pressed to Tooru’s forehead, Hajime glaring down at him with murder in his eyes, and Tooru truly thinks he’s about to die.

But then, Hajime lowers the gun. “Fuck,” he hisses, turning on his heel and walking quickly towards a window. 

“Wait, you can’t just  leave— “ Tooru shouts after him, but Hajime is already gone, leaving to trace that he was ever there.

Gravel crunches behind him, and for the second time that day, Tooru has a heart attack.

“Yo.” Kuroo smirks, twirling a knife around in his fingers.

Tooru’s heart is pounding, his eyes wide and his hand pressed to his chest. He shakes off the jump scare, turning to face Kuroo—who, in fact, did not go back to the car. “Fuck you for scaring me like that. Weren’t you supposed to be leaving?”

Kuroo clicks the safety back onto the gun, tucking it away with a sigh. “Yeah, but your dear ol’ dad gave me a call. Told me to bring you back straightaway.”

_Fuck_ . “What does he want now?”

”Dunno.” Kuroo shrugs. “Said something about a mission.”

Tooru can’t help the snort that escapes him. “A mission? Whatever for?”

“Can’t say. I’m just the bodyguard,” he says with a lopsided grin.

”So modest, Roo-chan.”

”You know it.”

The truth is—Tooru’s curious. He’s never been truly trusted with a mission before—especially not after the disaster in his second year of high school, when he’d practically blown up the entire building. 

This seemed...different. His father had been nicer to him lately, letting him off his leash a little to roam the streets freely. Trust was returning—and with it, freedom.

”Lets go, then,” Tooru announces, already walking for the staircase from which he’d come, “We wouldn’t want to be late to a meeting with the leader of the mafia himself.”

As he walks back down the stairs, he tries very, very hard to forget the memory of Iwaizumi Hajime putting a gun to his head.

—————

Ten minutes later, they’re in the car, speeding back over the border and into safe territory. 

“You know, if I had been one of Iwaizumi’s guys, you’d be dead,” Kuroo tells him as they near the base. It isn’t very secret—a large skyscraper entitled Oikawa Tower is in their line of sight from miles away. 

Tooru presses his lips together.  So, he didn’t see Iwa-chan, then.  “I could have taken them out.”

Kuroo snorts. “You wouldn’t have had any time. They don’t hesitate when it comes to that stuff—it’s how they’re trained.”

”We’re not much better,” he grumbles. 

“Who’s side are you on?” Kuroo teases, though the words hit him like a brick.  _Who’s side?_

_My own._

He doesn’t support what his father’s been doing—he never really has. There have been other careers he was interested in, sports he wanted to play or clubs he wanted to join, but he couldn’t do any of that. Not when his only option was to inherit the family business—killing.

His father knows about his doubts, of course—Tooru isn’t known for his secret-keeping skills—and his reaction was... _unpleasant_ . 

“Snap out of it, pretty boy.” Kuroo waves a hand in front of his face. Tooru blinked, slapping it away. “We’re here.”

Indeed they were—Tooru could see three bodyguards ready to walk them inside as they slowed to a stop, and many more around the perimeter of the building. “Wow. He’s overreacting a bit, isn’t he?”

Kuroo shrugs, turning off the car and opening his door. “Maybe. We did just get ambushed.”

”We’re back on our turf now, Roo-chan,” Tooru says as they walk inside. “Nothing can touch us here.” 

Kuroo hums in agreement, toying with a knife Tooru hadn’t seen him pull out. 

A man approaches them, decked out in a black and light blue guard uniform and a large gun Tooru can’t remember the name of. “Sir. Please follow me.”

He grins, flourishing his hand to the side dramatically. “Lead the way.”

Right on cue, the guard blushes.

Kuroo rolls his eyes, making an annoyed sound in the back of his throat.

”Careful, Roo-chan.” Tooru wiggles his fingers at Kuroo. “If you keep making that expression, you’ll get wrinkles.”

Kuroo ignores him as they head up in the elevator, taking out his phone and sending a quick text to Kenma informing him that they made it back safe.

Tooru hums a tune to himself as they step onto the carpeted floors of his father’s office. 

“Tooru,” his father greets emotionlessly.

”Father. Why did you call me here?”

Sighing, his father stands and takes a file out of his desk, handing it to Tooru. “I’ve got a job that I think only you can do.”

”I’ll take that as a compliment,” he mutters as he opens the file. Inside, there are pictures of Iwaizumi, his wife, and his son, and some allied families. Tooru’s eyes catch on the snapshot of the heir to their rival gang—Iwaizumi Hajime. He’s Tooru’s age, eighteen, and yet they both look old. He looks elegant in this photo and a bit mean, his lips turned downward and his expression blank.  _Resting bitch face times ten._

Other than that, though—Hajime’s handsome. All sharp edges and muscular arms, with the addition of a fitted suit to top it off.

The memory of him putting a gun to his temple surfaces before he can stop it. _”I’m going to put a bullet between those pretty eyes.”_

He swallows hard.

_Focus, Tooru._

”They’re planning an attack,” his father says through gritted teeth. “Something big. I’m not sure what, but a large shipment of weaponry arrived at their docks yesterday, and I’m not going to find out the hard way what they want to do with it.”

Tooru stares at him, jaw dropped. His father’s never shared this type of information with him before—he’s always been the trophy son for his father to show off to his allies. The perfect son on the outside; disappointment on the inside.

”I’m calling it Operation Rose,” his father explains, “You need to infiltrate their base and figure out their secrets. Befriend them, seduce them, I don’t care. Get me some information.”

He shares a shocked look with Kuroo. ”You want me to what? This isn’t a book, Dad, those kinds of things don’t actually work.”

His father stares at him through eyes that speak of death. “Make it work.”

Tooru presses his lips together and tries his best not to shout at him. The Iwaizumi mafia is known for their ruthlessness—shoot and move on, no questions asked. They take no war prisoners, and they have no mercy. If they found out the son of their rival himself was inside their ranks...

He was fucked. Truly, utterly fucked.

His father says, “Do not disappoint me.”

_You can do this_. He’s Tooru Oikawa, for fucks sake—thief of hearts and master of deception. If there’s anything he can do, it’s this.

Operation Rose—it would be executed exactly like the flower itself. Sweet, pretty blossoms...barbed with thorns and venom.

He smirks. “I won’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH this chapter was so hard to write for no reason
> 
> I’m exhausted guys ლ(ಠ益ಠლ)
> 
> Anyway
> 
> Onward we march!


	3. The plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I do not care,” his father says coldly, “what happens to Tooru. Get the job done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Big note. 
> 
> I ADDED LIKE 1000 WORDS TO CHAPTER 2
> 
> You really can’t read this chapter until you go back and read the new stuff I added, since it’s a huge plot point
> 
>   
> Also: I’m now calling them by their first names (or at least some of them) because I didn’t want to mix them up with their parents. I’ve modified the last two chapters so they’re the same.
> 
> (Sorry if that’s confusing. Tooru is Oikawa and Hajime is Iwaizumi in case anyone doesn’t know)
> 
> Just a few updates!
> 
> Alright, enjoy!

His burst of confidence lasts twenty minutes. “You’re going to  what? ”

Beside him, Kuroo rubs a hand down the side of his face in frustration. Both of them are exhausted—they’ve been mapping out this plan since the moment they got back, stopping only for a five-minute food break when Kuroo had complained about wanting ramen for the seventh time.

“I’m going to set off a small explosion in one of their bars by the border. We’ll place you in the rubble to resemble a citizen in need of assistance,” his father explained, not looking up from his papers. “I’m sure you can figure it out from there.”

Tooru pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. “The Iwaizumi family isn’t... good  like that. How do we know they’ll help me?”

His father glances over to the other men in the room for assistance, eyebrows raised. “Sawamura. I believe you had the report.”

There are a few other people in the room—heads of allied families and his father’s most trusted men—but Tooru only recognizes a few of them. Daichi Sawamura. Keiji Akaashi. Kiyoko Shimizu. Kei Tsukishima. Tobio Kageyama. Asahi Azumane. Morisuke Yaku. Atsumu Miya.  And …

He squints at a man who stands closest to his father, probably around the same age as the mafia leader, but his face looks...familiar.

Tooru can’t place it.

“We know that they’re pretty ruthless when it comes to our side of the city,” Daichi begins, glancing around the table once before saying, “but they’re welcoming to anyone on their side of the border.”

Tooru snorts.  _Welcoming isn’t exactly the word I would use to describe him._

Daichi continues, “We’ve got eyewitness reports of them taking in severely hurt or diseased citizens. It seems they’ve got high-tech medical equipment  inside  their headquarters—good enough to rival our best hospitals—and they provide housing for them until they’re fully healed.”

Tooru couldn’t wrap his head around this.  _They take citizens in? Heal them; provide housing for them?_

_It’s not a very mafia-like thing to do._

“So,” Tooru says, leaning forward on his elbows, “basically, someone roughs me up, you lay me inside a blown-up bar, and they’re going to swoop in and play hero?”

Daichi nods. “Apparently.”

“This is a terrible plan.” Tooru leans back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment and breathing deeply.

Kuroo mutters his agreement. “To make it convincing, we’re going to have to legitimately hurt him—which doesn’t seem like the best strategy if his job is to move around and spy. Plus, the smoke inhalation from the building after we place him there could do permanent damage.”

“A-Are we sure that we have to hurt him?” Asahi mumbles nervously, “I m-mean, we could just make it  _look_ like…”

Yaku sighs. “No, we have to. They’ve got x-rays and shit. They’ll know.” He smirks across the table at Tooru. “I’ll do it.”

“Hey!” Atsumu protests. “I wanted to volunteer!”

“I can feel the love,” Tooru deadpans.

“He’s right, though,” Kageyama points out, “We have to hurt you, at least a little.”

Tsukishima says, “True. Yaku  _would_ be the ideal person for the job.” Everyone turns to stare at him, shocked. Tsukishima wasn’t one to give out compliments often—especially not to Yaku. “He packs a mean punch for someone so...miniature.”

Yaku growls up at Tsukishima, “ Say that again, asshole !”

“What?” Tsuki cups his ear, smirking. “Could you speak louder? I’m afraid I can’t hear you from all the way up here.”

Yaku punches Tsuki in the arm. The blonde giant doesn’t even flinch.

“Yaku,” Tooru’s father snaps. Tooru swears the temperature in the room drops a few degrees. “ Sit down .”

The tiny assassin does as told, muttering promises of murder under his breath as he slumps in his seat.

“I do not care,” his father says coldly, “what happens to Tooru. Get the job done.”

Tooru flinches.

His father stands. “We’re done here. You may stay and converse if you wish.”

The air in the room gets considerably lighter after he leaves; the tension that had been previously weighing down on all of them had been lifted.

“Tooru,” Kuroo says. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

_No_.  “Of course, Roo-chan,” he plasters on an easy grin, “I  am  a master of seduction.”

“You aren’t  seducing  Hajime,” the man who had been standing next to his father corrects. He pauses, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. “Unless that works. Then, go for it.”

“I’m sorry, but who are you?” Tooru points at him. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“Keishin Ukai,” he introduces with a drag from his cigarette. “Oikawa hired me to lead the mission.”

_Ukai._ That’s it. He’s heard that name before.

It feels weird to hear his last name used in reference to his father—even though they’d shared it for years, it had come from his mother’s side. Tooru had been surprised when, after his mother died, his father hadn’t switched it back.

“Leading the mission?” Keiji echoes. “I was informed that would be Daichi’s job.”

Ukai raises an eyebrow, letting out a breath of smoke before saying, “Sawamura? Dunno. Haven’t talked to him yet.”

Daichi stands and shakes Ukai’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you, sir, and you can call me Daichi.” He turns back to face the group. “It’s true we were originally told that I would head the mission, but Oikawa has informed me that Ukai will be taking over. He’s very qualified and has been closely allied with Oikawa for a while now, so I trust his judgement and expect the rest of you to do the same.”

“Yes, Dad-chan.” Tooru waves away the warning. 

“We promise to behave,” Kuroo says, crossing his fingers under the table.

“Pinkie swear,” Yaku grins evilly.

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Atsumu says.

Daichi glares at them.

“So.” Atsumu changes the subject quickly. “Who gets to beat Tooru up?”

Tooru smiles woodenly. “Atsumu, if you so much as  touch  me, I’ll throw you out the fucking window.”

“Oh, please, you couldn’t throw me if you tried.”

Tooru jumps to his feet, smirking, “Come over here and we’ll find out — “

“ Shut the fuck up !” Daichi shouts. When everyone falls silent, he continues at a more level tone, “We need to work out the holes in the plan. If this falls through—if we don’t work this out—we’re looking at an all-out war between us and the Iwaizumi mafia.”

His words hang in the air for a moment, and Tooru realizes, as he sinks back into his seat, just how much responsibility is being put on his shoulders.  _An all-out war…_

_Fuck._

“How are we going to get Tooru to appear to be injured?” Keiji muses. 

Kiyoko, who had stayed silent throughout the entire meeting, says quietly, “There are places we could injure him that wouldn’t have any consequences. Easy fixes. Makeup can do the rest.”

“Kuroo’s our resident nerd,” Tooru points out, “He should be the one to do it.”

Kuroo snorts. “You’re just hoping I’ll go easy on you.”

Tooru raises an eyebrow at him. “Won’t you, Roo-chan?”

“And pass on an opportunity to beat the shit out of you? No fucking way.”

“So mean,” Tooru whines, dropping his head into his hands. “Does no one here respect me?”

“No,” Daichi says instantly.

“Nope,” Atsumu says, popping the  p .

“As if,” Kiyoko deadpans.

“Goodness, no,” Tsukishima says.

“...no,” Asahi mumbles.

Yaku is clutching his stomach as he laughs, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Motherfuckers,” Tooru accuses sadly. 

He’s vibrating with nerves as they negotiate other parts of the plan, too anxious to focus on what they’re saying.

Hajime’s words come back to him.  _I don’t want to kill you, but I will._

How does he know that they’ll take him in? They’re brutal.

He’s  _Tooru Oikawa._

It’s not a stealthy name in the slightest, and yet Hajime didn’t recognize it when he told him. 

“ _Who are you?”_

_“Tooru.”_

He frowns. “What about my disguise?”

The group’s chatter pauses as they turn to face him. 

Daichi says, “what?”

“My disguise,” Tooru continues, “I’ll need one.”

“Why? The Iwaizumi’s have never seen you before.”

Tooru’s face flushes bright red—a symptom of embarrassment he hasn’t been able to rid himself of just yet. “Well…”

Kuroo raises both eyebrows. “Oho ho?”

Daichi sighs. “What did you do?”

“Dad-chan, why do you assume the worst of me?”

“Did you do something?”

“...yes.”

The group collectively sighs. Yaku reluctantly hands over some money to Tsukishima, and Tooru rolls his eyes.  _They placed bets on me? How childish._

He squints at them. _...what was the bet?_

Ukai growls, “If you revealed your position to one of the Iwaizumi’s, then the plan is fucked from the beginning.”

“It wasn’t—I didn’t—“ Tooru inhales. “He didn’t see my face.”

“Who?”

“...Hajime.”

“ _Hajime Iwaizumi_? ” Atsumu shouts.

“Are you  insane ?” Kuroo groans. “Did this happen at the ambush? When did he get to you?”

“Right before you showed up. It’s really not a big deal,” Tooru explains, a slow smirk spreading across his face. “He was too distracted by my pretty eyes to shoot me.”

Yaku snorts.

Daichi massages his brow frustratedly. “But did he  see  you.”

Tooru knows what question he’s really asking.  _Does he know who you are?_ “Most of my face was covered up—there’s no way he recognized me.”

“ No way  or  probably not ?” Atsumu asks. 

Tooru hesitates. It’s possible that Hajime recognized him and decided not to say anything—but he severely doubts it. That’s not how the Iwaizumi’s work. “No way,” he confirms.

“Alright.” Ukai lets out a breath of relief. “Then we can move forward with the plan. Yaku, you’re the explosives expert, correct?”

“Hell yeah.” Yaku grins.

“You got a bomb that’ll do heavy damage to the building it’s in but minimal damage to the ones around it?”

Yaku pulls a lemon-shaped grenade out of his bag. Tooru scoots back in his chair. “A kabloom bomb? Always.”

“You have the weirdest names for those things,” Daichi mutters.

“Don’t hate on the kabloom bomb, Daichi, or you’ll find one under your pillow tonight.”

“Doesn’t matter what it’s called,” Kageyama says, “Just whether it works or not.”

“Of course it works!” Yaku shouts.

“Good.” Ukai nods, unfazed even when Yaku chucks the bomb at him. He catches it easily, turning it around a few times before setting it back down on the table. “Kinda small…”

“Fitting,” Tsukishima snickers.

Yaku snaps, “I’ll fit it  _up your ass_ —“

“That’s enough, Yaku,” Daichi says, glaring down the table at them.

“Uh-oh,” Tooru tsks, “Dad-chan’s got his evil parent stare on.”

“Will the bomb work?” Daichi asks, ignoring him.

“Yes,” Yaku confirms immediately.

“Then this conversation is over. Now, we just need to figure out how to get him in a position so they’ll take notice of him.”

“We can place him under a table,” Kiyoko offers. “In an actual explosion, that is where you would receive the least amount of damage. However, you would still be injured.”

“If the explosion’s coming from the ground, though,” Kuroo argues, “He'd retain a lot of damage. So the bomb will have to be placed on the second floor.”

Ukai nods. “Fine, fine, that’s easily done.” He shuffles through a few papers, eyebrows raising at one of them. “Says here Oikawa wants us to initiate the plan by Saturday...is that possible?”

Tooru shrugs, ignoring the squirming pit of nerves in his stomach. “It will be difficult, but I’ll clear my schedule.”

“I can place the bomb by tomorrow if necessary,” Yaku offers.

“Do that,” Ukai says. “We’ll blow up the bar in two days. That enough time to prepare, Tooru?”

Tooru waves away their concerns. “Of course!”

The room is silent for a moment after he says this—probably due to the clipped and shaky tone he used.  _Fucking nerves._

“...so can I beat him up, or…?” Atsumu says hesitantly.

Instantly, the entire room choruses, “ _No_ .” 

Atsumu sinks into his chair, sighing.

“You all are dismissed,” Ukai says, gathering his files. “Tooru, get some rest and come visit my office tomorrow. We need to work out communication kinks and your...heist.”

Tooru winks. “Will do, coach.”

He watches as they shuffle out of the room, conversing under their breaths as they exit, one by one, and soon Tooru’s alone, rooted to his office chair, staring off into space.

He groans, placing his head in his hands and wishing the butterflies in his stomach would go away. 

He wants to say he’s done missions like this before, but he hasn’t. He’s never been trusted by his father much, and the onslaught of responsibility being placed on him is weighing down on his shoulders.

The memory of Hajime’s voice haunts him, and he can’t help but recall the feeling he got when Hajime pressed a gun to his head, snarling, _“_ _Here’s how this is going to go…”_

Tooru shivers.

_Fuck_.

This had to work.  _It has to._

Because he isn’t sure he’ll ever have the guts to kill Hajime Iwaizumi—not when he’s the only thing Tooru can think about.

He tells himself it’s the nerves, that he’s just worried about the mission, but he knows he’s lying to himself.

The butterflies in his stomach are excited, pumped on adrenaline and something else he doesn’t want to look into at the moment.

He despises himself because of it.

_How dare you do this to me, Iwa-chan._

He reminds himself why he’s doing this— to prove myself to my father, to earn a seat at the table —but it’s no use.

When he finally falls asleep on the conference room table, the only thing he dreams about is Hajime Iwaizumi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YESSS my chapters are getting longer! Still kinda short, but whatever, I’ll work on it
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Next up: some explosions occur


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